


Aren't Friends Electric?

by honorarytenenbaum



Category: RPF - Fandom, Taika Waititi - Fandom
Genre: Celebrity Crush, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24770509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honorarytenenbaum/pseuds/honorarytenenbaum
Summary: Taika's 44th birthday is definitely peak Taika™️. Overflowing liquor, close friends in and out of Hollywood and '90s hip-hop getting the room vibing. In a crowded room filled with love and happiness, he can't seem to dance to the beat until you're dancing with him.
Relationships: Taika Waititi/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	Aren't Friends Electric?

**Author's Note:**

> Taika Waititi and '90s hip-hop. Let's make it happen, people. This just drabble that I weirdly feel passionate about. TBH, just glad to be back writing fan fiction.

Taika loves parties. As a Leo, it's his birthright to be the center of attention. And what better way to flex that prowess in a room full of intoxicated people?

You watch him dance the night away to '90s hip-hop hits with Jemaine. Ever since your 20s, you've been the missing third in their dynamic duo. Jemaine made it big first, then Taika and now you. With your BAFTA winning indie drama flicks and screenplay awards on your mantle, it became official-you're part of New Zealand cinema's unspoken holy trinity.

The three of you spent the rest of your late 30s at California making names for yourselves. For the past years, the three of you have been proving your worth to the folks back home. Now, you're all reaping the benefits through late-night parties, waking up at the noon and enjoying the perks of stardom.

Now, it all culminates to the night of your best friend's 44th birthday. His name celebrated by a mix bag of long-time friends and newly earned celebrity friends. All of you celebrated his birthday at an expensive AirBnB beach house that the three of you were too broke to afford 20 years ago.

And boy, it was fucking wild. Very on brand for Taika: current Hollywood darling, actual god of chaos, party boy extraordinaire.

Jemaine and Taika are kicking it on the dance floor to A Tribe Called Quest. As for you, you decide to keep for yourself for the night. This is really, really way too much. Usually, you can take it. But for some reason you're too sober to dance but drunk enough to be a bit existential. Taika turning his birthday into a '90s hip-hop soiree is definitely peak Taika. Dancing his ass off? Peak Taika. Rubbing elbows with Hollywood elite? Peak Taika. Downing four shots in a row? Peak fucking Taika. But you're just not feeling tonight.

You're not a Leo like him—you're a sad Aquarius drowning in your badly timed ennui.

As you down your frozen margarita, you fend for your brain freeze alone. You have your back to the wall while you watch the happy, beautiful people surrounding you. "Ugh," you groan at the thought of going through that crowd just to get turnt. But before you can head to the bar, you see a shadow coming towards you.

It's none other than the birthday boy himself dressed in white. He had a white jean jacket and pants on, his usual white Stan Smiths, a quirky pineapple fanny pack for some reason and a fucking white bandana wrapped around his head. He looks like a bootleg Maori Tupac and that's probably the look he was going for. As for you, you matched his white bandana with a huge white bandana wrapped around your breasts, wide white pants, white Puma x Buffalo platform sneaks and white gold hoops to boot with your hair ponytailed so high it can reach the heavens.

"The fuck, bro? You love Quest!" he exclaims pushing your left shoulder. "Come on, we're dancing," he subtly dances to the beat while pulling to the dance floor with him. "Taika, I'm not drunk enough hold on—" He refuses to listen and keeps pulling you by the arm. "Tai-Taika!" you exclaim.

The thought of embarrassing yourself around the likes of the Marvel Studio Chrises (Hemsworth and Evans), Tessa Thompson, Cate Blanchett and other award winning Hollywood elite is overwhelming you. You start to pull back while he keeps tugging your arm, trying to get you to succumb to peer pressure. You're now forced into a public push and pull game. Knowing Taika, he won't stop until you're having fun too.

"Two shots of tequila. Two shots," you bargain as you try to pull away from him. He stops and quirks his brow. "You can do 'em with me," you continue negotiating.

"Hmm, okay okay," he agreed. "But-" he emphasizes "—we do five shots each instead of two—"

"Noooo," you whine like a brat. "—Aaannnd you stop moping around during your best friend's birthday," he emphasizes on the word best friend. "It's disrespectful to the rich and famous," he hits you with his signature zinger. You give him a deadpan stare while he gives you his signature puppy dog eyes in return, pouting and all.

"You're the worst," you give into his terms. He squeals and pulls you into a hug, kissing you on the cheek afterwards. "I love you too," he says as he squeezes you. As you walk to the bar, you start to get paranoid on how his kiss made your cheeks grow bright red. You dismiss the notion while he order shots for the both of you.

Little do you know, the dim lighting and strobe can't conceal the blush from cheeks. As the both you weave through the crowd, your flustered cherubic face is all he wants to see.

-

Five shots and two cocktails later, the three of you are ripping it on the dance floor. It was like old times at Wellington when weekend college parties where all you had.

Unlike Taika, confidence isn't something you're innate with. It only comes to you when liquor is involved. You and Jemaine share this trait. Once it does, you can vogue or whack the night away. It's a little known fact that you're a natural dancer. And as the room cheers you on, they see Taika in a rare position where he can only step back and be your hype man.

People who don't know him might see this as a shocker. But to those who are close to him, this is your dynamic in action. If anything, seeing you kickback is the best birthday present he can have right now. But the people closest to him don't even know that. That's a little secret he keeps to himself among many others, hoping someday he can tell you that himself. If he plays his cards right, maybe tonight's the night.

Salt 'N Peppa's "Shoop" starts getting the room romping. While everyone dances their heart out, both of you are in your own world. Jemaine left shortly to do his sixth drink routine: order one more, go to the restroom and barf, and then drink his heart out once more. And honestly, the two of you are too wasted and in the zone to notice.

Jumping. Bumping. Grinding.

The two of you danced as if you're back in his dorm room. It's just the music and the two of you having fun. Sure, the whole room notices that you two are too close for comfort. But none of you noticed a damn thing. As the last beat drops, you find yourself losing balance. His instincts kick in and catches you before you become someone's Instagram Story meme of the night.

He pulls you into the safety of his arms. You close your eyes to stop the room from spinning. "Maybe nine drinks are way too many," you say with your speech slurring, burying your head on his chest out of shame. "Oh c'mon now, that's just our chaser." You both burst out laughing at the absurdity of this night.

The track transitions from Salt 'N Peppa's "Shoop" to Lauryn Hill's "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" as you pull away from his chest. Once you look up, you catch him staring at you this whole time. His hazel brown eyes lock with yours while his arms start to slowly drop down, lacing it around your hips. Without knowing it, he instinctively sways you to the beat of the song, pulling you closer to him once again as the song fills the room.

All of this reminds you of your decades-long friendship; the success, the failures, and everything in between-you're still here together. The three of you are all here. You all made it through the twisted yet magical rollercoaster of fame. Although Jemaine makes three, your brain starts forming a supercut of your relationship with Taika.

Laughters shared, adventures and mishaps, and of course, undeniable late-night feelings. To this day, those feelings remain unaddressed. And you don't mind. This is enough, right? Right?

"Happy birthday," you break the silence between you with a greeting. Your voice starts getting a bit more slurry as your system keeps up with your alcohol intake. You rest your head on his chest, so you can have some rest amidst the crazy. "I love you too," he says in response. You slowly look up at him with curiosity filling your eyes. He keeps saying that all night. He said that earlier and now he saying it again.

And you can't help but wonder why. Why say it now?

"But if you feel like what I feel," he murmurs the lyrics under his breath. "Please let me know that it's real. You're just to good to be true," he keeps singing. "Can't take my eyes off you," you sing along with him, unknowingly making him weak in the knees by the sound of your singing alone. You lift your head as curiosity, confusion and intoxication hit you all at once.

"Taika," you say his name. "Mhmm?" he asks as he keeps swaying you to the beat. "Why do you keep saying 'I love you too?'" you ask in a straightforward tone. He chuckles as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. He ignores the question and pulls you into him once again.

"Don't make me state the obvious, babe," he whispers in your left ear. "You're breaking my heart," he feigns a laugh. For the longest time the three of you have been friends, you've been closer to Jemaine. Jemaine was your friend first until Taika entered the picture somewhere in freshman year. They instantly became a package deal after. Wanting to keep one, you got another—whether you liked it or not.

Three is usually a crowd, but it never bothered any of you. You and Taika are almost complete opposites apart from your shared interests of film, music, and eclectic taste in fashion. You have this love-hate banter that Jemaine had to stomach for two decades with aggravation and aspirin. These banters also bred some unspoken tension. Still, the two of you knew it's all fun and games, albeit twisted.

With his charisma and ego, you pulled him down to earth with your dry wit. The world might be saying he is the shit, but you remind him how he is shit. He says God can only judge him, yet here you are. Girls love throwing themselves at him even though he's a little weirdo. And sometimes, sometimes, you can't stand it.

Little did you know, none of them matter anyway. He only has eyes on you since the day you sat in between Jemaine and him during drama class freshman year. Topless centerfold girls could literally enter the room right now and he wouldn't give two shits about them. And you've seen the girls that entered his life. Girls who are prettier, curvier and are just straight-up better than you (basing on your standard, at least). But all of his relationships always end with a bittersweet note. Until now, it's lost on you why that is.

At the end of the day, Taika will always realize-they're not you. When will you realize that he only wants you?

-

All great nights come to an end. And no, Taika's 44th birthday/'90s hip-hop bash isn't an exception.

It's 4 a.m. and half of the party people left, while Mariah Carey's "Always Be My Baby" plays them out. Somewhere, Jemaine passed out in this expensive beach house. You're not saying it's nearby a toilet bowl, but you wouldn't be shocked if you find him slumped there later in the afternoon. Most of the crowd left the rented house. Hell, even the two of you left at around 3-ish.

The shore nearby is so attractive. It's dark blue ebbing as it reaches the shore, washing away on the sand just pulls you in. It is so, so, so alluring—especially to two drunk people at four in the morning.

Both of you have been sitting by the shore for an hour or so. While Taika drinks a champagne bottle from the party, you were curled up into a ball lying down at the sand. Your head rests on his lap while the two of you watch the restless sea waters hit the shore. Your mind is filled with thoughts of the party and how Taika acted. "He wants you, he wants you, he wants you," you hear your brain say on repeat. And yet, you keep mum about it as if it's all in your head.

"What are you doing?" you find yourself asking him. At this point, both of your thoughts are now unfiltered thanks to alcohol and adrenaline wearing out. He sighs and lifts the champagne bottle closer to his lips. He takes a swig before answering your question. "What do you mean?"

"I love you too?" you mention his 44th birthday party catchphrase. "What do you think?" he bounces the question back at you, making you sigh in exasperation. "Taika, I'm too drunk to play games," you whine. "I'm not playing a fucking game, y/n," his grip on the bottle tightens while his free hand rubs his left temple.

You sit up from your curled position. Planting your hands on the sand to support your body weight, you lean back to look at the stars. "Everyone loves you," you keep your gaze upwards. "You're now at the position where you can have anyone in Hollywood—literally anyone," you laugh bitterly. "You're in your 40s looking like you're 30, you're probably in the best shape you're in, and Hollywood is in love with you!" You exclaim. "Hell, you can ask Cate or Tessa to be with you right now and they'll say yes," you point the obvious out. "So why, Waititi?" you shoot him a look.

"Why would you settle for your friend back home?" you ask him, nay, dare him to answer you.

He catches you off guard by throwing the champagne bottle at the sea in response. You watch him as he stands up regardless of his drunken state. "'CAUSE YOU'RE NOT JUST A FRIEND," he shouts, exhausted with this confrontation. He scratches his brow with one finger then trails his fingers to his curly locks, gripping it as he tries to suppress his aggravation.

"When I broke down from the stress of this goddamn place, who was there for me?" he turns his head to face you. "It's not Cate nor Tessa nor goddamn Jeff Goldblum," he feigns laughter. "It's you. It's always been you. Through the exhaustion, pain, and laughter. It was you and Jemaine," he points it all out. "And lord knows I don't want to marry Jemaine now, do I?" he lets out a dry chuckle.

"You want to marry me?" you ask him the wrong question causing him to laugh and go down to his knees. "Marry you, go to brunch with you, wake up next to you, kiss yo—" You cut him off with what he's been wanting this whole night. As you pull him by his collar, your lips lock together, tongues battling for dominance. It is deep, filled with yearning, and has been due for a decade or so.

He's right. At the end of a stressful day, it's the two of you who went out for drinks. It can be at a bar nearby or the apartment one of you were renting at the time. It was you who stayed with him when he had a breakdown in his car mid-shoot while he films his first Marvel film. And it was him who held you close, while you cried yourself to sleep after another studio rejected your pitch.

It's always been the two of you. It's been like this for two decades. Now that his 44th birthday ended, that hasn't change a bit.

What has changed is that the both of you finally knew what you've always have known—you're each other's home.


End file.
